the boy in the rain
by abbyli
Summary: Looking back, she remembered the first time she ever saw Dean Winchester. A mere eleven years old, soaking wet, starving, and so afraid. There was no way she could leave him like that. dean/jo prequel to 'the seventy fourth annual hunger games'.


_**the boy in the rain**_

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**a/n: So this was requested by LiveLoveImagine when she won the "65th Reviewer Challenge". This is dedicated to all the other wonderful reviewers for my SPN/THG stories. Thank you all so much and enjoy this short prequel. **

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The thunder crashed, causing the ten year old Joanna Harvelle to start violently. She sighed and continued to knead the bread dough, feeling her father's footsteps come up behind her.

"It's okay, honey. It's just the thunder," her father's soothing voice greeted her and she felt his large hands at her tiny shoulders.

"I know. But it's so loud," she whispered, leaning back against her father's chest.

"Overcome your fears, darling. That's all I can say," said her mother as she entered the kitchen.

"Yes, Mom," Jo sighed. She lifted up the pile of dough and set it down into the pan that Bill Harvelle had just set down on the counter beside her.

"Thank you," says Bill, scooping the pan up and inspecting it. "Good job, Jo."

"Thanks, Dad," replies Jo.

Bill walks over to the oven and opens it, setting the pan in along with another sheet full of chocolate chip cookies. "Coming up behind you," says Ellen as she ducks underneath her husband's beefy arm and sets a cherry pie in. "Looks like a good load. Don't want to overstuff it."

Bill rolls his eyes and shuts the door. He turns around and plants a noisy kiss on his wife's cheek before scooting over to the counter to where their daughter still stood. He leans down and sniffs an apple pie that had just come out of the oven less than ten minutes ago, letting out an appreciative whoop.

"Lovely, my dear lady," he congratulates Ellen with a teasing smile.

"I didn't make it, Jo did," says Ellen, tossing a dirty mixing bowl into the sink.

"You did?" Bill turns to the girl.

"Well, Mom helped," Jo beamed. She meets Ellen's gaze and they share a tiny wink.

"Let's dig into it!" Bill reaches for a knife and Ellen's hand caught his, slapping it away.

"Bill! That's for the shop!"

"Nah, it's for us. Let's just take a minute to sit back and enjoy being a family," says Bill, his fingers linking through Ellen's. Their eyes meet and Ellen immediately melts.

"All right, all right," she gives in, handing him the knife.

Jo sits back on her stool, her chin resting in her hands. She loved these Sundays, the days where she and her parents would spend the day and bake and 'enjoy being a family', like her father had just put it. It almost made them forget about all of their worries, all of their troubles...

"Here you go, baby," her mother's voice startles her out of her thoughts as the thick slice of pie is placed in front of her.

"Thanks, Mom." She picks up a fork and goes to take a bite but something stops her. She had a weird feeling and it was starting to drive her crazy. A crash of thunder makes all of them jump slightly. "I'll be right back," she says, placing her fork back on the table and hopping down from the stool.

"Where are you-?"

She walks into the tiny living room to which is stuffed with mismatched furniture. She steps over to the window and peers out, watching as a figure appears through the fog.

It's a young boy, maybe twelve or thirteen years old. He carries a bundle of rags and is in a threadbare coat that is tightly pulled around him. She recognizes the boy. He is probably a few grades ahead of her in school, she's not sure. But she knows him, or at least, _of _him.

"Who is that boy, Momma?" she finds herself asking as her parents approach her.

Ellen lifts the curtains and her eyes widen. "Why, that's Dean Winchester. What in the world is he doing out there in the pouring rain?!"

As they watch, Dean pushes through the mud and slips, falling down onto his hands and knees. Jo wonders for a second if he's going to get back up. She can see how weak he is.

"Daddy, what are you going to do with those loaves right there?" she says, jogging lightly back into the kitchen. Two loaves of slightly burned bread sit on the counter near the sliced up pie, heat fumes still rising off of them.

"There were going to get cut up and turned into stuffing," replies Bill. Apprehension and worry are in both of her parents faces.

Jo scoops up the bread and her slice of pie. She pulls a plastic bag out from under the sink and slips the pie and the bread inside, zipping it up.

Her parents watch her, neither saying a word as she walks past them and opens up the front door. She knows why her parents aren't doing anything and she can't really blame them. After living in District 12 for all of their lives and knowing what the cost can bring if you try to help someone that isn't your own family-it can be lethal.

But she doesn't really care at that moment.

With a mighty toss she had acquired from baseball at recess time, the bag of burned bread and mushed pie flies through the air and lands a few feet away from the downed boy. His head shoots up and he stares at the bag for a moment before he sees her.

Their eyes meet but she doesn't hold the gaze, quickly dashing back into the house and slamming the door behind her. She holds the doorknob for a minute and then moves back to the window. She sees the tail of an oversized coat flapping as the boy is finally on his feet and running away into the mist. Relief fills her and she sighs.

"That was brave thing that you did, baby," says Ellen, her arms circling her daughter.

"I know why you couldn't help him, Mom," says Jo, allowing another sigh to escape her. "And it's okay."

Ellen doesn't say anything. Neither does Bill. How can they?

"Come on, let's have some pie." And with that, the young girl gently pushed past her parents and back into the kitchen.

**. . .**

Looking back, after she had been Reaped and Dean had volunteered for his younger brother, she wondered if he even remembered that day. It was such a rainy blur, even to her.

But sitting there in that chair, on that stage, in front of all those people, how could she not remember that day?

She could feel his eyes on her from backstage and she knew. She knew that he knew. That he remembered.

She knew she could never, _ever _kill Dean Winchester. She wouldn't. There was no way that these Games were going to turn her against him. She owed him that, the boy in the rain.

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**Here you go! Sorry it's so late. **

**So I've been tinkering around with this for a while. I've wondered how I can do it without it being copied from the book and then I came up with this. Jo was always an inquisitive and outspoken young woman on the show and it made me wonder what kind of a child she was and what kind of family life that Ellen, Bill, and she had. Obviously, it was tough but it was good too so I wanted to bring that in. It's just that I can definitely see Jo doing this, helping Dean out like that even at a young age. And...she gave him his first piece of pie! **

**Also, with exactly what is going on and the dangers that surround them, I can see why Ellen and Bill wouldn't help Dean. They are too afraid for their own safety and the safety of their child but when Jo goes to assist Dean, they don't stand in the way. It can also explain as to why Bill Harvelle was always Dean's biggest customer whenever he brought his fresh game by. **

**All right, I'm shutting up now. I hope you enjoyed and I'd love to hear what you thought! **


End file.
